


Saints? Lips? Really?

by AnnaWritesFiction



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, References to Shakespeare, Romance, Romeo and Juliet References, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 16:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaWritesFiction/pseuds/AnnaWritesFiction
Summary: “Juliet wouldn’t want Romeo to die, you said so just now. But by endangering herself, she endangers him.”“I don’t see how, angel.”“Oh, but surely, my dear, we’ve established that Romeo would kill himself in a heartbeat, should he face life without her.”(Aziraphale and Crowley discuss Shakespeare, until they don't. Angst, musings on free will, and monumental revelations ensue.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 130





	Saints? Lips? Really?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, the idea isn't exactly new, but I wanted to try my hand at it, plus I am in love with this format. I tried to discuss the themes present in Romeo and Juliet in a context that is true to Zira and Crowley's characters and allegiances. Some interesting philosophical questions came up in the process, and I can only hope I dealt with them in an engaging manner. 
> 
> This ficlet was written in about an hour, on a whim, and is not beta read. All mistakes are mine. As are the obvious liberties I've taken with Shakespearean plays and historical facts.

# Saints? Lips? _Really?_

**-by Anna-**

“I still cannot believe you talked me into this.”

“Oh, no need to be so dramatic about it, dear. It was just a play. And I am not entirely convinced you hated _every second_ of it.”

“No, no, you’re right about that. I couldn’t bring myself to care enough, so _hate_ might be a strong word. Boredom, perhaps? I swear, Aziraphale, they were _gloomy _before, his gloomy plays, but this was the absolute gloomiest of the lot.”

“I believe that title still belongs to _Hamlet_, which, may I remind you, you most _kindly_ agreed to”-

“Shut it. I’m a demon.”

“I’ve noticed. I am an angel.”

“My point, you _incorrigible idiot_, is that you are by no means allowed to call me _kind_. I am not. I only miracled your stupid play successful because you are insufferable whenever you sulk”-

“I barely insinuated anything. Anyway, I am sorry. I only meant to point out that Hamlet’s ending was rather dismal, whereas this one, oh, _I don’t know_. I mean, yes, they both died, but the families? The illogical, generations-deep enmity between them? The bard left us with some hope that, perhaps, those misguided people wouldn’t succumb to blind hatred in the future.”

“Bollocks to that.”

“Language, dear.”

“No, seriously, what an utter pile of steaming”-

“-well, I’ve had enough of this uncouth-“

“Will you let me finish? Bollocks to that. Fuck the families. Fuck. Them. Oh, look at your face, is your hereditary enemy being too crass for those holy ears? Well. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck this play, fuck the bard, and fuck those arseholes. What should we call them? _Veronese? Veronians?_ Ugh, whatever. If they didn’t have sticks shoved up their”-

“**_Crowley!_**”

“No one had to _die_, angel! That’s my point! ‘Twas _love_, for Satan’s sake! If Romeo had grabbed a sword and sm- disc- _murdered_ a Capulet they would've been so bloody proud, the twats! Instead, what did they do? They essentially punished a child for loving another! Excuse me for wanting them to rot in Heav- Hel- well, _somewhere_.”

“Tsk. God grants second chances in her Mercy, Crowley, and so should we. Well, not you, obviously. I, for one, found the idea of both families learning a lesson quite comforting. There’s justice in their ordeal.”

“Seriously? Would you say that if you were _them_? _Dead?_”

“Oh, it’s just a hypothetical scenario, dear. No one actually died. But if you really must know, if I were, say, Romeo, I wouldn’t have resorted to such drastic measures in the first place.”

“Please, for the hate of everything that’s unholy, _don’t you even think_ of lecturing me on suicide being a sin, because I swear, the sheer _nerve_”-

“-No, no, nothing of the sort. Why would I think of someone’s despair as evil? It was just foolish, I think. To do something irreversible before considering the options.”

“But he thought she was destr- _dead_! What options? Should he wait for Juliet to rise from the f- the dead like _Jesus_?”

“That’s blasphemous, Crowley.”

“Hello? _Demon_.”

“Yes, yes, you rendered that pretty clear. But there are always alternatives, Crowley. There is always something one can do. I agree, it was tragic, but also an admittance of weakness. He killed himself before reviewing all the facts, and then there she was, alive, and she _really_ had no other option, because by that point she had already gotten secretly married to a _Montague_, which her family would _never_ forgive. And she was truly all alone.”

“Angel.”

“Romeo killed her, in a sense.”

“_Aziraphale_.”

“Dear?”

“They were _in love_. If she couldn’t have him, there was no reason for her to live anyway. No reason for him. Their death was an act of defiance that, however briefly, brought them together.”

“In death!”

“In death.”

“So, you mean to tell me that, if there was a way for them both to survive, it wouldn’t have been preferable?”

“Of course it would. But tragedy would have happened sooner or later, due to the families you are so eager to forgive.”

“Not if it was _true_ love.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get me wrong, dear, I adored the play. And I admire William’s work infinitely. But I am not sure Romeo and Juliet were _really_ in love. More, like, smitten?”

“Eh. Point taken. Teenagers and their proclivities. Also, three bloody days. Hanky-panky? Try waiting for five and a half… _months_. Or perhaps a year. To give a completely random example.”

“What?”

“Forgive me, it’s almost Christmas. Allergies.”

“Anyway, that wasn’t my point. Although three days are a rather short period of time, indeed. What I meant to say was, if Romeo truly loved Juliet, and if there truly was no way for them to live happily ever after as husband and wife, he wouldn’t have let his beloved endanger herself so. He would have been perfectly content to observe her continued existence from afar, for true love is selfless, not indulgent and self-destructive.”

“Continued existence? Angel, do you think this is a longevity competition? If he were, like you say, _ssss_elfless, why would he let his better half live in misery?”

“Perhaps _misery_ could also ensure her _safety_.”

“Perhaps _she _didn’t give a fuck about sss_safety_.”

“Perhaps. But she probably gave a-a- well, the _intercourse thing_\- about _Romeo’s_ safety.”

“Of course she bloody did. Couldn’t live without him, angel, we established that.”

“Well then, that settles it rather nicely, does it not?”

“What?”

“Juliet wouldn’t want Romeo to die, you said so just now. But by endangering _herself,_ she endangers _him_.”

“I don’t see how, angel.”

“Oh, but surely, my dear, we’ve established _Romeo would kill himself in a heartbeat_, should he face life without her.”

“I thought you’d rather Romeo _didn’t_ kill himself.”

“Not until he’d considered all the alternatives. But otherwise, what else can he do?”

“Kill himself?”

“Without a second thought.”

“He wouldn’t _dare._”

“There would be no-one stopping him.”

“**_I_** **_would_** be bloody stopping him.”

“You would be dead. That’s me.”

“Ngk. Eh. Mn. **_What?_**”

“I said, that’s me. This is where I live, Crowley. Thank you for the lovely evening, and for walking with me.”

“No, I- _Satan help me_. I know you live here, idiot, I’ve been _inside_. The other thing you said.”

“Was it _your_ doing? Did _you_ tell him?”

“What? Who? I swear Aziraphale, I haven’t the faintest idea”-

“_Saints? Lips?_ Really? Does the word _subtlety_ mean anything to you?”

“…I may have uttered a few things while inebriated, in a completely platonic context mind you. Not my fault he’s a _writer._ They embellish and add things of their own; it’s that thing, _whatsisname_, the, the _license_.”

“What if my lot read this thing? You think them daft?”

“Can you honestly picture Gabriel attending a Shakespeare play? Can you?”

“Doesn’t make your course of action any less inconsiderate.”

“So, let me get this straight. For once in your deplorable, stupid existence you weren’t thick as a brick wall and actually paid attention to the subtext. And of all the conclusions you could have drawn, me being inconsiderate somehow tops the list as the most significant? Why, that’s jolly helpful, you, holier-than-thou, sanctimonious p”-

“It was lovely.”

“Eurgh. **_Wha_**’?” 

“The play.”

“Well. I didn’t. I mean. The bard. He wrote it. Not mine, the play. I’d've written it different, if it were up to me. Boring as anything, the gloomy ones.” 

“Still. Thank you for it.”

“…”

“I should be going inside. You wouldn’t be interested in a night cap, dear?”

“Eh. No.”

“Better not.”

“Absolutely.”

“So, I guess, you should be on your way.”

“Yeah.”

“Tempting to do, evil wiles, that sort of thing I presume.”

“Mhm. You know, if you’d be amenable, we could do this again. Sometime.”

“In a few decades, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.”

“So, I should be heading inside.”

“You already said that, angel. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

Inside, Aziraphale presses his back against the door and lets out a prolonged sigh. He brings a trembling hand, slowly and purposefully, to his lips.

“Do they ever, dear.” He murmurs, something not quite like sadness dancing in his eyes.  
**_ “Do I ever.”_**

##  _-FIN-_


End file.
